H-M-T-R
by goodloser
Summary: What if Nice and Hajime swapped places? A story about the ever-hungry female member of the Hamatora agency, and the mysterious boy that always hangs around her. [Spoilers for RE: ep 8]
1. That Woman, Start

Even though it exists, they say they can't give it to me on principle. Isn't there something wrong with that?

_Sometimes, I think… this world is already overflowing at its maximum capacity._

_Our day-to-day lives are brimming with both happiness and misfortune. Yet, because we cannot see the excess from the inside, we still feel unfulfilled. _

_Given that we are incapable of acknowledging neither excess nor deprivation, we might as well not exist._

Huh?

I don't get it. What are you trying to say?

"_In other words: buying condiments from a hamburger cart is impossible. That's common sense._"

Her fingers drummed against the plastic surface. "C'mon – I'm not convinced. So from a vendor's perspective, anything below three hundred calories isn't food? Fifteen calories don't exist in their world? Talk about twisted!"

Behind the counter was an apron-clad brunette, nervously trying to attract her customer's attention to no avail; Start was too busy frowning at the voice from her phone, telling her _just go to a canteen_. At her side, Yoi busied himself with his wallet. The contrast between the two was almost comical, with him being tall, quiet, and blank, and Start short, loud, and unruly. He didn't even seem aware of his surroundings. Nothing but the distinct copper scent of coins.

"430 yen." The coins were stacked high on his flat palm, held out for all to see.

"That's why I'm in a canteen queue, but she's being kinda stubborn. Yoi-chan's getting bored now."

The lady started again, "Ma'am, you should get down," only to cut herself short with a squeal.

_Bang._

Finally putting the phone down, Start looked up with an irritated _yes?_, noticing for the first time the masked men and their dark, smoking guns.

* * *

The criminals were no match for the Minimum Holder, and not least because they were endangering a food establishment; for her, a crime of the highest offence.The fight was over before they knew it, and soon they were at_ Café Nowhere, _the base of operations for _Hamatora_, Start's very own detective duo. There wasn't anywhere else she could rush into shouting "Master! Do we have any jobs?", a teenager trailing behind her, without getting any strange looks. The man in question was at the bar, working away at a mortar and pestle.

"Don't yell inside my store. I'll ban you."

"But this store is _also_ my office. So, any jobs?"

Yoi sat himself on a barstool, already pulling out his wallet and removing the _entire_ contents.

"You call it an office, but I'm only renting you one of my tables."

Birthday leant on the counter, that stupid grin plastered on his face. "_Hey_, Start. Did you manage to buy your tomato sauce?"

"That's _ketchup_! …And after this burger, I'm down to hand wipes."

Right on cue, Master set down the plate in front of her, and Yoi flinched; something he tended to do _whenever_ their money was spent. She immediately yanked the bun off, tore open the red sachet and squeezed it on with _far_ more force than was necessary – a side effect of talking to the blonde. He was always making fun of her, and _why_? Because she _knew_ the sauces at this café were the worst in Yokohama? There was _nothing_ wrong with getting her condiments elsewhere, as much as everyone wanted her to think otherwise. "So where's Koneko?"

Ratio's voice sounded from behind with a "Look where you're walking", and she could tell Yoi was pacing around the room, shuffling notes in his hands. "You could trip and whack your head, causing you to pass out."

"That's the ticket, _doctor_! You're not just some starving detective with only napkins to her name."

Start was _hardly_ starving, considering food was the only thing she ever spent money on.

"_Wipes_!"

"Smells gross."

She abruptly stopped her scowling when she felt a hand pull something out of her pocket, and turned to see Yoi wiping his hands with _her_ hand wipes. Birthday's smile went from annoying to downright _slap-worthy_.

"Now you have empty packets."

"Hey, Yoi-chan… Can I wash my hands, too?"

There was a clatter of abacus beads, and the bespectacled woman appeared out of nowhere.

"Cleanliness is godliness! If you want to be clean, you must work!"

"Koneko! Do we have a job? If possible, something that'll turn into a nice, big meal, pronto!"

"The hungry are never idle."

The bespectacled man finally spoke up. Sipping tea. _Who_ paid for that?

"If you're here, say something sooner, Murasaki."

* * *

**A/N:**

I've been really excited about this story. Especially inspired by episode 8 of season 2, when Nice says "I'm calling you Hajime. Actually, Start-chan would be cool too. Something more English-y."

Thus in this world, Hajime is called Start, and Nice is Yoi, Japanese for "nice". There aren't a lot of spoilers so far, but expect more (particularly concerning Hajime's Minimum). This chapter was a like half a rewrite of episode 1, but the rest won't be - the plot will be new!

This fic is also available on AO3 and I do recommend you read it on there rather than here as there's much nicer formatting. There's even colours!


	2. As Within, So Without

crying, wailing

_Who? Me?_

Clutching a body. Once warm, but with the heat now all leaked out. More still and silent than she'd ever been. Unnervingly so.

_I have to save her_.

Something wells up from within. Images flash through his mind - attempts to relate the feeling. To describe.

_Bottom of a lake: crushing and dark and heavy_

_Forest fire: unseen. unknown. burning_

_Car crash: avoidable, stoppable, irreversible_

Sometime between the _hurt_ and now, a bright white light had flicked on, and all of a sudden he was running. Rushing, even. Through a tunnel. There might have been voices screeching past. People. Buildings. The pain in his chest was too distracting to focus on anything but that, and the thought flying circles round his head. Over and over, at the speed of sound:

I have to save her.

* * *

Koneko raised two letters; two jobs.

"The first request is to help a mother find her son. He's disappeared, and she's not in the best of health, and so can't look for him herself.

The second request is immortality - the client doesn't care if it's by Holy Grail, Golden Apples, or a feast of peaches. They want eternal life any way they can get it."

The mention of jobs brought something to Start's attention: where were Birthday and Ratio? Certainly not in their seats.

As if reading her mind, the assistant answered the question for her. "They took on guard duty: they said they'll be guarding a cemetery that's been having recent problems with grave robbers."

"There are some things in this world that are better left untouched." Master's low grumble was barely audible over his coffee grinding.

Murasaki pushed his glasses up his nose (after all the years, she'd come to know that meant he was thinking) and stared down at the two slips. "_This_ one has a much bigger reward."

Correct. The 'eternal life' case would net them a million yen, and the 'missing son' case only a hundred thousand - but that was if they even _completed_ said 'eternal life' case. There was no such _thing_ as eternal life, or immortality, or coming back from the dead. What's the point of taking up an impossible request?

What kind of a money-grubbing loser would take up a job like that?

"Let's do this one."

A hand planted itself onto the paper in affirmation, and she was very surprised indeed to see it belonged to _Murasaki_.

"Hey, no way. I want to do the one with a chance of getting _paid_." Her own hand slammed onto the first job, the one with the missing child. Murasaki looked as deadpan as ever, but she knew on the inside he was scowling.

"Did you hear a word I said?"

"It's not about the money. You _so_ don't get it!"

"This is _exactly_ why you had to sell the washing machine."

"There's no shame in using a launderette!"

She paused to pinch the bridge of her nose and think: _Okay, okay. Arguing won't get us anywhere. I can compromise._

"For lunch I'll just borrow money from Yoi-"

_Clack_. The boy in question had loudly slammed his wallet shut and was now staring blankly at Start.

"None for you."

"And there goes dinner."

"I can go without dignity for a day, no problem!"

There were many things she was happy to sacrifice for the sake of food - if she had to mooch tonight's meal, so be it. Murasaki, however, was having none of it, and he grabbed the _ridiculous_ eternal life sheet and left with nothing more than a line that reeked of irritation: _go be a shameless PI who works cheap jobs._ What else could she do but snatch up the only job left, shout "I don't need you telling me what to do!" and storm out?

Yoi waved them off with a "see you soon", and just rounding the corner, Start thought she heard Koneko cry out about being ignored yet again.

The investigation - her own, private, _Murasaki-free_ investigation - would be best kicked off by talking to the mother herself. Thus the one detective made her way to a smallish, inconspicuous house in the residential district of Yokohama. The sign on the letterbox read _Tezuka._ A common name; this didn't look like a rich family. Where'd they get the money for the job?

She rang the bell. She waited.

It was a good few moments before a voice called out _the door's unlocked_, frail and unsteady. One push on the handle confirmed this. A single light hung down from above, casting a dim, yellow glow into the corridor. The entrance's wooden floor was scuffed... a few pairs of men's shoes on the shoe rack, but only one women's. Strange. And there was the mother, sat at the table: headscarf, sunglasses, wide hat. She was sheathed in a turtle-neck jumper, long trousers, even socks in her slippers. Today was a gentle spring, not _that_ hot, but still far too warm for all this dressing up. And it was then that Start noticed how _cold_ it was in there. The air-con was running furiously full-force, a dulled roar from the corner of the room. The only noise in the whole house.

A shiver crept down her legs, and for once, she cursed the short shorts.

"You must be here about my son."

The woman extended a gloved hand and the PI takes a step forward. _Crunch. _What the-

There was a crumpled food package on the floor.

Her reaction was mixed. There was a jump of fright (that hopefully Ms. Tezuka didn't see. How unprofessional!) and then humiliation, and _then_ disgust. Even _she_ didn't leave trash lying around. She nudged it out of the way and for the second time, stepped forward, her feet relieved to find a clear surface. And looking down now, she realised she forgot to take off her shoes... but the lady of the house didn't mention it. Or move at all. Did she just not pay attention to all the dirt in here?

"I'm Start. Nice to meet you. He's missing, right?"

The PI's hand wrapped around Tezuka's, and once again she struggled to hide her discomfort.

"Fumio has been gone for a few days. I haven't seen him since I came back from the hospital..."

It felt _damaged_. Burn victim? Scars? Impossible to tell underneath the fabric. Unpleasant to touch.

"Do you have any idea where he could've gone? Any friends he might be staying with?"

This close to her, Start was able to detect a fragrant from Tezuka: flowery perfume. A _lot_ of it. She took a step back.

"Fumio doesn't have many friends. Not in Yokohama. He likes talking to people on his computer. But no one in Yokohama."

The woman coughed, and it was _brutal_.

"So there was no note, saying where he could've gone?"

"No note."

All of a sudden, she was hesitant to work on this case. She felt too under-qualified. Even _with_ her Minimum, bringing in a trained police officer seemed the better choice for a case like this.

"May I have a look around, Tezuka?"

Start began walking away before the words even left her mouth: there could be a clue in this house... _and_ she was nosy.

"Yes, you may."

There was a dusty, framed photograph on the nearby shelf. Start picked it up for a closer look: it was an inexpensive, but wooden frame. Yoi would be disappointed. Fumio was there, to the left of a woman she didn't recognise at first... but it could be none other than Ms. Tezuka. Her face was pretty compared to his merely average one, and it was a shame she hid it underneath a hat. The pair looked distantly happy, but the circles under the mother's eyes and the strain in Fumio's grin were unmistakable. There was no father.

Every few inches or so, on the floor, lay rubbish. Mostly crisp bags or empty coffee cans. She examined a few of them, and they all had use-by dates either around now, or of a few months ago. These must be _old_. Maybe while his mother was sick, he lived straight out of the local vending machine? That wasn't what bad kids did, that was borderline-hikikomori behaviour. So he didn't seem street-smart enough to run away of his own accord... An abduction seemed all the more likely.

From the first glance one could see the kitchen was in a state of disuse - there was dust in some places and untouched utensils in others. Opening the fridge door revealed it empty, bare, and pale, save for a few dark yellow stains splashed against the wall and floor. Her stomach gave a rebellious grumble at that - _no_ fridge should be _this_ empty. The cupboards were stocked with nothing more than cup noodles and cobwebs.

"When were you discharged from the hospital?"

Tezuka was so still, sat neatly in her chair, she could've blended into the background like a winter mannequin.

"The eleventh."

Three days. Start would wager that was when Fumio ran away. If he _did_ run away.

She turned and left the kitchen, dodging litter, and made her way upstairs. No light. Her hand fumbled against the wall - even more grime, does no one _clean_ this place? - and flicked the switch, but nothing happened. One second passed. Two. Three, and they audibly powered up. A low, unfamiliar electric whine that felt straight of a horror flick. Even with the light dim, she could see the packing tape blacking out the windows. This was growing more worrying by the minute.

The wooden floor was discoloured in places, likely from water damage. The door on the end gave way to a bathroom, with a dark, angry mould crawled over every surface; sink, shower, walls and floor. The toilet was empty, _thankfully_, but a murky coating lurked threateningly beneath the surface of the water. She left, pinching her nose at the stench. _I don't want to spend any more time here than I have to._

Something seemed _off_ about Fumio's door, but she couldn't pick out what, and when she opened it she was more _relieved_ than anything else; it was probably the most normal room in the house. Cramped. Couldn't be more than two metres wide. More garbage coated the ground, but the futon covers were thrown to one side and a mess of clothes lay on top of a dresser. Not an atypical bedroom for a teenager. Apart from the taped windows, perhaps. The laptop booted, with a blue screen demanding a password. She could bring in someone to work that out later.

She returned to the landing, and had worked out what was weird: the smell. Not just from the toilet, but out here, in the open. Faint, though. She breathed in, shutting her eyes and letting her senses think for her. It was some kind of mould alright, but even more _exaggerated_, and growing stronger with every move she made towards the final room.

Ms. Tezuka's room.

It was thickening, like a miasma by this point. Her hands covered her mouth, trying to block it out. The seat of her stomach churned, part disgust and part caution: _don't go in there_. Her nostrils were flooded, her fingers slick with sweat from her face, but she _had_ to go in now - free hand turning the handle - because if it was what she _thought_ it was-

nothing.

The room was as abandoned as the rest of the house. The air was rancid. So heavy she could almost _feel_ it. The bedsheets were dirty, the closets had a few clothes in them, the end-table was empty, but that was _it_. Nothing under the bed. Nothing in the chest of drawers. No hidden trapdoors or secret passages. _Where _was that stench coming from?

She said goodbye to Tezuka, and left the house. But not before she opened the upstairs windows to air the place out.

* * *

A suspiciously dark alley and a mysterious, masked figure were two things Murasaki wasn't _really_ expecting when he took on the job.

An eccentric greying socialite, perhaps, or a beauty-obsessed actress. Definitely in some kind of over-the-top western manor. Not someone who looked like he just finished robbing a convenience store. And a _small_ guy at that - the hooded head couldn't have reached higher than Murasaki's nose - with an oddly familiar voice. Was he a past client? Or even someone the investigator had gone up against before, like a hired goon.

Either way he couldn't shake the slight reminiscence as he stood there, with hands stuffed in pockets, talking to this stranger.

"Did you... have anything in mind... ?"

The mask was of _Hello Kitty_'s titular character, pink and white plastic contrasting with brown clothes and grey voice.

"Do what you have to. Bring me immortality."

Amidst the nearby rumble of the road, the overachiever sighed. This was slowly getting nowhere. "Look, I can't help you without any _information_ first. I mean, I don't even know your _name_."

"Call me what you want to." The young man - he _guessed_ it was a young man, judging by how he talked - had a soft voice, despite how harsh and deep he tried to make it.

"Okay. Kitty."

It was the first thing that sprung to mind.

"Not that."

"_Mask_, then. Something must have given you the idea that eternal life exists, or else this would be a wild goose chase."

Mask looked up, and even with his eyes concealed, Murasaki knew he was staring straight at him.

"I believe there is a Minimum Holder."

Why not mention that to begin with?

"Thank you, Mask. I'll be in touch."

The detective returned to his car to mull over his next move. Probably getting hold of some Facultas records, or seeking out the city's information broker, but that was much more Start's thing. Even if she could never afford it.

* * *

"The client for the possible abduction is actually the police. To tell you the truth, we've got our hands full with another case that's pretty complicated."

After having no more than thirty yen to spend on much-needed merchandise from Mao, she was at a complete loss for what to do - until Art showed up and paid for her. They had listened to his information, and then headed to a café, where he'd bought her as many treats as she'd asked for, and chewing on a muffin, Start decided she was _very_ glad to have such a generous, loving, lunch-funding pal. In the background, wind turbines turned lazily. Bold white towers stood against the dodger blue sky. The worry she'd felt earlier seemed like a dream fading fast.

"Well, no big deal. We make our living off the crumbs from your table."

She was one laid-back bunny indeed. At that, Art could only smile and take his leave.

"Well then, I'll pick up the tab."

The receipt waved in his hand.

"As for the 30,000 yen, I'm willing to hold off on adding interest until next month."

"What? I still gotta pay that!?"

That came out more shriek-like than she intended.

"Make good use of that info, okay?"

He walked away, to the counter, and Start took this opportunity to grab the last cake slice and lean back. She had _better_ use it, considering the steep price, but what could she do with what Mao gave her? It asked way more questions than answered them. For all she knew, he might as well be _dead._

Dead...

Something hit her.

Something that Koneko said, earlier today. Master, too.

_There are some things in this world better left untouched._

* * *

**A/N:**

Hey everyone! Sorry it's been so long since the first chapter - I totally forgot about this for a couple weeks and then I had to work on a plot and all sorts of other related stuff before I could even begin to write it. But it's here now! I hope you enjoy, please tell me what you think!

I'll get on chapter 3 ASAP, it definitely won't take almost a month so stay tuned :) I hope you guys are looking forward to what I've got in store for you.

Again, this chapter is best viewed on AO3 as it has way nicer formatting!


	3. As Above, So Below

To anyone who _wasn't_ Birthday, cemeteries were forlorn places for paying one's respects to the dead.

Unfortunately for Ratio, Birthday _was_ Birthday. And thus the rows upon rows of dark headstones called for no less than his _usual_ tasteless jokes and smug grins. It was for this reason they chose to guard the graveyard in the good doctor's car, staring out the window for any abnormal activities. At least until night fell.

The blonde had leant back in his seat, with arms folded behind his head, looking the picture of relaxation. "_No one_ snatches bodies at this hour. Come on - let's get something to eat. Nothing'll happen while we're gone."

"Surely that's what the criminals want us to think? The snatching is less likely to occur at day, therefore that's when they'll strike."

He wasn't serious, of course. The _real_ answer was that he was so put off by the thought of Birthday eating an old, engine-cooked egg he wasn't hungry anymore.

"Careful. You're starting to sound like Murasaki." Birthday chuckled lightly at his own joke.

Then the two were silent again. Focusing beyond the windscreen. At least a _few_ of the trees in the cemetery were blossoming, and the gentle wind swept countless petals into the air with every sway. The pinks and whites blended with the vibrant greens of foliage.

If Birthday passed first, and that was an _if_ and not a _when_, the physician decided then and there he'd find him a resting place as peaceful as it was here.

"Have you heard of the Egg of Columbus?"

_Well, no peace lasts forever_.

"Even though a given act doesn't seem like a big deal, the value of the act lies in becoming the first to do it." The line sounded rehearsed.

"A famous anecdote."

Of course Ratio knew the story. As legend had it, Columbus was told that discovering the Americas was inevitable, and thus no great accomplishment. In return he challenged his critics to stand an egg on its top. They all failed, naturally, until Columbus tapped the egg on the table, flattening its tip.

"I wonder about that, though. Doesn't it just mean Columbus was the first person to waste an egg? Didn't his mum tell him not to waste food?"

Looking at it that way, Start would have a fit. "What's your point?"

The man picked up the egg from the dashboard, made a salt-shaking motion, and said, "got any salt or something?"

"Y-you're going to eat that?" And just when Ratio _thought_ he was getting his appetite back. But before Birthday could respond, the phone rang, and he promptly pulled it out. The doctor could only fold his arms in disgust.

"Hello, hello, Start."

_"Is there a Tezuka?"_

Judging by the girl's slightly wobbling voice, and the quiet background noise of shoes against pavement, she was running.

"Huh? Where'd that come from? Listen, y'know the Egg of Columbus story? Everyone praises him when all he did was smash an egg without eating it!"

Her voice rose an octave in shock._ "Eh? Ehh?! At least salt it first! Even boiling it'd be fine... wait, forget that. Are you at the graveyard right now? Is there a grave for someone called Tezuka Fumio?"_

"I dunno. We're not _in_ the graveyard, since _Doc_ thinks I 'spoil the mood'. Can you believe that? All I do is lighten things up!"

There was a cough and a frown to Birthday's right, but he ignored it.

_"Please look for it. I'm coming over."_ Click. She hung up.

At least it was an opportunity to stretch his legs. He opened his door and stepped out with a smirk.

"Where are _you_ going?"

"Into _the World of Darkness_. Start said we need to find a grave."

The doctor raised an eyebrow. "Did she say _why?_"

"Probably looking for a boyfriend. She always said she likes the quiet type. Someone called Tezuka Fumio."

As usual, the man's deductions were... unhelpful. The more _logical_ explanation was that she was conducting her own investigation, likely as requested, and this grave was somehow important to it. That was reason enough to come into the cemetery, and so Ratio, too, exited the car. Locked it. Checked that it was locked. Checked _again_, because this vehicle was _brand new_, and if anything happened to it, he'd probably cry.

The unpainted torii gate towered over them as they passed through it. It was clearly an old structure, with moss and mildew eating at the wood being the most obvious indicators. Walking underneath it was like entering a distant, undisturbed realm.

The pair were the only people in the whole cemetery.

They explored the grounds, reading the engraving on each stone-hewn slab. Some names were inked in red. Others had bouquets of flowers, or small offerings of food to the deceased. Between the sprinkles of petals, and the brightly-coloured flowers, Birthday figured the dead had nothing to complain about. He voiced this to Ratio, only to earn an unappreciative sigh.

There were multiple Tezukas: Nozomi, Yukari, Satsuya, Ryouko... yet no one named Fumio. Although these few tombstones probably weren't the _only_ ones bearing the Tezuka name, and it was hardly a small graveyard.

They decided to make their way back to the car. One single step out of the torii, and the faraway growl of an engine grew noticeably louder. A purple city car bolted down the road, going far too fast for an urban area. Brakes squealed as it swerved around the sharp corner, carving a glorious black arc into the ground. The side of it smacked into a certain black hatchback so hard, the two of them actually _saw_ both vehicles lift a few centimetres off the ground, before they came back down, frames bouncing, aluminium caving, metal scraping against metal.

The end result was a complete and utter wreck.

Ratio could only watch, jaw-dropped, as the mini's engine spluttered and failed to start. And then the driver's door popped open, and a man flopped out. It wasn't until he was sprinting away that the doctor came to his senses and shouted "O..._ Oi!_" to absolutely no avail.

"_Watch_ it -"

She almost walked straight into some dark-clothed _street thug_, and _normally_ it'd be her fault, except this guy was full-on racing up the street. No one should be _racing_ up a street. What a hazard. Even if she, too, had been racing until a few moments ago, but she was _justified_, as a licensed Private Investigator, and...

The jerk pushed Start away without so much as a second glance, and all she could do was sigh. Kids these days. It wasn't until a few more paces that she noticed the ruins of Ratio's car, and hurried on. The poor bloke was knelt in front of the wreckage. She planted herself behind him, and stuffed her hands in her jacket, trying to look nonchalant.

There really was no limit to Birthday's teasing. "Ratio-chan? You okay?"

His voice was pained. "I got that car last month."

"Oh, Colombus."

* * *

While Ratio called the repair shop, Birthday and Start had returned to searching for the elusive grave of Tezuka Fumio... coming up as empty-handed as they'd been an hour ago. This did nothing to deter her, though, and soon the trio were sat in a cheap, temporary replacement car Ratio had begrudgingly accepted from the garage.

"It's dangerous to call someone while driving."

For once, the _he_ wasn't the one doing the chastising - she snatched the mobile from his hand and put it to her ear. "Murasaki? How's things?"

_"Is that you, Start?"_

"Actually, I was checking his location -"

"Shush, I'm on the phone! Turns out my job and their job weren't two jobs at all, but one and the same."

Birthday watched the city rush past the rolled-up windows. For once, he was quiet. Confined to the back seat like a naughty child.

_"So?"_

"Look, you should quit yours and come join us. We need help finding a body."

Murasaki didn't reply, and so she continued. "What do we have so far? Body snatchers. A sick mother. A missing boy. _Dead body smell_ in her house. And Mao told me that four years ago, there was a Tezuka funeral in this part of town."

_"... Go on."_

"Fumio died a while ago from some sickness, and his mum went mad with grief. So she digs up the body of a boy - probably a teen, the same age as he was when he died - and keeps it in her house, thinking it's him."

"But we couldn't find his grave," Birthday took this opportunity to pipe up.

"That's not the _only_ cemetery in Yokohama; it's probably around here somewhere. I _know_ there's a dead body in that house."

Start brought the phone back to her face, just in time to hear Murasaki say _"you've got it wrong,"_ and then nothing. Slightly confused, she looked at the screen. He'd hung up on her.

Alleys. All alleys today, and all of them dark and a little bit dirty. At least this one should be the last one.

The bespectacled man closed his mobile, and put it into its pocket, where it belonged. She'd get here soon. The person who needed his attention right now was stood right in front of him: dressed in all black, from the trainers on his feet to the baseball cap on his head. He seemed scared. Murasaki adjusted his glasses, and then looked straight in his eyes.

"I believe you have the secret to immortality.

Tezuka Fumio."

* * *

Ratio parked just down the road from the backstreet Murasaki told him he'd be, and Start got out of the car, not even bothering to shut the door.

For a second she felt lost: as she approached the passageway, there was the man in question stood in front of it, but that wasn't what confused her. There was _another_ man, and not just another man, but the same guy who almost ran into her a little over half-an-hour ago. He was _still_ running, making quick progress up the street.

"What are you waiting for?" said Murasaki.

"Huh?"

"There's your missing person."

She was even _more_ confused, now, but obeyed, taking off after the figure in black. If he was more than five metres away, she wouldn't be able to use her Minimum. But it was worth a try anyway. She raised her hand and snapped her fingers, the _click_ disappearing fast due to the fact she was in motion.

Nothing.

She'd have to get closer, and continued the chase, dodging a few people and narrowly avoiding postboxes. Then once more. Raised her hand, and _click._

If she had some kind of _Sonic Minimum_ or something, she'd go closing the distance at the speed of sound. But that wasn't it at all.

The first step was wearing fingerless gloves. Check. Then she had to lift her hand, and that was when everything became clear to her. Like suddenly opening your eyes. She saw - or felt, whatever - _everything_. The inner-workings of the universe. Energy frequencies, or _chi_, or something. When she clicked her fingers, that made sound. More energy. Manifesting as oscillations through the air, and her Minimum forced them into the same frequencies, except in antiphase, so they'd cancel out. Destructive interference was what they called it. Start was never all that good at physics.

With one snap of her fingers, she could void almost anything she wanted. The Null Minimum. Including someone's balance.

Fumio tripped.

Of course, it wasn't really _that_ simple, and that was a mere attempt by Facultas scientists at explaining something that was physically _impossible_. But she could do it.

She caught up with the figure picking itself up off the ground. "Are you Tezuka Fumio?"

He had a little difficulty in turning around whilst sat on the ground and nursing a bruised nose, but he managed it. The guy was unmistakeably frightened, yet also unmistakeably who she was looking for. Just a little older than sixteen.

"A-am I going to jail? Please don't h-hurt me."

"Uh," Start frowned. It was way easier to talk to people who acted all tough than the other way around. "No? Maybe. Did you do anything wrong?"

"My mum..."

Murasaki arrived on the scene, and said, "he has the Revival Minimum."

"So after you got sick and died, your Minimum brought you back?"

"I... I didn't get sick," Fumio scooched a little farther away from them, and then curled up into a ball. "Not me."

That was the final piece of the puzzle she needed.

A body missing from a grave. A sick mother. A missing boy. Dead body smell in her house. Trash everywhere. The Tezuka Funeral. The Revival Minimum. The car crash.

"_Your mother_ was the one who got sick four years ago. She went to the hospital, and died."

"Mum... they said she overworked herself..."

"When you left school, you didn't get a job, and lived off fast food and condolence money. And a few days ago, you got fed up and went to ask your mother for help. And your Minimum triggered. And she came back. And you got so surprised and scared you hid from her, but she didn't even _realise_ she was dead, she thought she was just discharged from the hospital but still sick, so she went back to your house and covered herself up, so no one would see her gross dead skin."

"So it wasn't three, or two jobs, but _one_." Murasaki folded his arms. "We all approached this from the wrong angle."

"Well _I_ figured out my job was related to Birthday's, so -"

"I knew mine was related to yours long before you called me."

"What? _Seriously?_ Next time, tell me or something!"

Fumio's voice floated up from the pavement, quiet and quivering. "What's g-going to happen to me now?"

"Hm?" Start looked back down at him. "Oh, we'll just let the police know you're alive and well, and tell them your mum came back to life or something. She'll probably go back to the cemetery. Sorry, pal."

"You'll have to come with _me_," Murasaki said, and the way the light glinted off his glasses did nothing to ease the guy's anxiety. "A client of mine needs your Minimum."

* * *

They did just that. Tezuka Fumio saw to Mask, and Tezuka Ryouko was returned to her rightful grave. Start _kicked_ herself when Art told her that last part, because she swore she saw that headstone like two times at _least_, and if she'd only known the woman was called Ryouko, she could've solved this case so much sooner...

The superintendent smiled briefly to himself, thinking over the group's adventure the way she'd recounted them. He'd hoped it wouldn't have ended like this.

The emergency lights on the roof of the police cars flashed red and blue. Red and blue. Over and over. That, and the street lamp a few metres over, were the only things illuminating the scene. This mix of lights bathed the corpse in unnatural, ethereal colours. The blood was only just beginning to solidify. It was as black as the sky.

"What's the matter?" Gasquet asked, no doubt having noticed his sudden scowl.

Art folded his arms; a sign of thought, of disappointment, and because tonight was a little chilly. A uniformed forensic stepped over and knelt down by the body, and he took that as a cue to turn away.

"I still think we should tell them."

Tezuka Fumio had been found, alright.

"About the serial killer"

TIME OF DEATH: 11:08 PM

"targeting Minimum Holders."

* * *

**A/N:** Hope you all enjoyed that :D I've got more in store though, so again, stay tuned. Get hype. The next one'll be a doozy, at least in mystery terms. If you didn't understand any of what happened, please tell me, as confusion was not my intention.


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